


𝑺𝒂𝒂𝒋𝒂𝒏 𝑱𝒊 𝑮𝒉𝒂𝒓 𝑨𝒂𝒚𝒆

by lovemeter



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Arranged Marriage, Desi!Reader, Every Bollywood trope packed into one story, F/M, Forbidden Love, Meet the Family, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Secret Relationship, Strangers to Lovers, Weddings, Woc!reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:41:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25902238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovemeter/pseuds/lovemeter
Summary: After a brisk romance in London, Bucky follows you back to your home in Upstate New York where the preparations for your marriage to the son of a family friend are well underway. As the inevitable countdown to your wedding begins, Bucky remains optimistic in his pursuit of your love and your family’s acceptance.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 12
Kudos: 6





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> A completely self-indulgent fic from a desi girl who is starving for love and affection and a dash of cultural appreciation. Everyone is welcomed to read, but please respect the culture and traditions. 
> 
> I’m a Punjabi Indo-Pakistani. So tidbits of Punjabi/Urdu will be incorporated into the dialogue because I AM HUNGRY FOR VALIDATION. Ngl my language skills aren’t the best but I will put it in any way. I’ll put translations in the end.

* * *

**__ **

**_Tere ghar aaya main aaya tujhko lene_ **   
**_Dil ke badle mein dil ka nazraana dene_ **

* * *

Natasha was never one to cower in front of a man—or anyone for that matter. With a personality as bold and fiery as her scarlet red locks, she exuded sultry confidence that made even the manliest of men take their seat. 

But here, in front of your father, she stood slightly intimidated. It took every ounce of boldness within her to look the man in the eye. And every time she did she found his beady black eyes looking back at her with an empty stare. Unimpressed and judgemental. 

Natasha had been a friend of this family long enough to know that this was just his normal face. She knew the stoic front he held melted with just a simple smile from one of his daughters. She just hoped it worked right now. 

“Who is he again?” he asked. 

“He’s my brother,” she blurted. 

“Your brother?" he repeated with a raised brow. 

"I mean my cousin,” she corrected, wrapping her arms around Bucky’s arm, shaking him gently as she giggles. “But he’s like a brother to me." 

The older man’s eyes fall upon Bucky, who looks up at him sheepishly. He’s only a inch or two taller than Bucky but stands over him like a formidable iron gate with you peeking from behind. 

"Mr. L/N,” he extends a hand. “It’s so nice to meet you." 

He looks at Bucky’s hand for a split second before diverting his gaze to Natasha. Bucky brings his hand back to his side slowly. 

"And what is he doing here?” He asks. 

“Well,” Natasha smiles with a nervous laugh. “He just got back from England—studying at Oxford.” She pats him in the shoulder. “He’s supposed to be living with me but since I’m here to help with the wedding I was wondering if he could stay here with me?" 

"I-I can’t leave him alone, uhm–” she trails off, “his dad told me not to." 

“I don’t run a hotel here,” he deadpanned. 

She laughs nervously.“True. Very true.” She looks over at you silently, signaling for a little help. 

"Abbu,” you place your hands on his broad shoulder, pulling him down to whisper into his ear. “We have spare rooms. Why don’t you let him stay?” you ask innocently. “ _Bachara itni door se aaya hai.”_

He turns his head to look at you fully with a disapproving look on his face. “It’s not nice to deny a guest,” you coaxed with a pout. 

“I don’t trust him,” he states flatly. 

Your mother rolls her eyes at her husband. “Your cousin can stay, Nat. We don’t mind at all,“ Ummi says with a smile despite Abbu shooting a glare in her direction. He was a wise man and knew that retaliation was useless. 

Bucky’s face lights up the same way yours does. "Thank you! I will–" 

"But should you cause me or my family any kind of trouble I will kick you out immediately,” your father interjects with a pointing finger. 

Ummi hits him softly on the shoulder. "Oh, stop being so stiff,” she hushes him then turns to Bucky. “Consider this your home." 

Bucky lets out a breathy laugh, his grip on the strap of his bag growing tight. He peers over your father’s shoulder to find you standing behind with a quaint, lovely smile brimming with happiness. 

"Don’t worry about me,” he replies. Abbu’s eyes narrow as he crosses his arms. A shiver runs down Bucky’s spine. Geez. Does this guy eat nails for breakfast or something? “I promise to stay out of your hair. Thank you so much for letting me stay.”

“Thank you so much, Uncle,” Natasha says. “It means so much to me." 

Abbu simply nods with a tired sigh and turns to retreat to his study. 

Your mother takes a step towards Bucky with an easy smile and the kindest eyes. A wave of nostalgia hits him, washing him over with the warmth and aroma that were entwined with the memories of his own mother. 

“It’s nice to meet you…” she trails, not knowing his name. 

He quickly takes her hand in his, the strap of his satchel slipping off his shoulder. “James,” he shakes her hand, “but everyone calls me Bucky.” 

“Nice to meet you, Bucky,” she smiles. “So your Natasha’s cousin?”

“Yeah, her mom’s my aunt,” Bucky replies smoothly.

Lying to such a sweet person felt so wrong. 

“Natasha has been a friend of Y/N’s for so long, she’s practically a part of the family,” she says. “And any family of her’s is a part of ours.” 

A tint of pink brushes over Nat’s cheeks. “Oh, you’re too nice,” she chuckles to herself. 

“Thank you,” Bucky blushes. “I’m so grateful.” 

“Things are a bit chaotic at the moment. My daughter’s wedding is coming up and there’s just so much to be done,” she explains. “I hope that won’t cause you any trouble.”

“Oh, it’s no problem,” Bucky shakes his head, the rest of his body tense. “Congratulations,” he strains.

When his eyes meet yours, you look away, anxiously tugging on the sleeve of your sweater. A small smile forms on his face. He’s not worried. Clear and set on his goal, it’ll take a lot more than one overbearing father and an impending wedding to make him back down. 

"Y/N, why don’t you go show our guest to his room?” your mother asks as she walks down the hall. “Natasha, if you could just help me with something real quick?" 

"Sure,” Nat nods and follows behind her. 

You nod with a sheepish smile as you motion Bucky to follow you. 

He hooks his bag on his shoulder, quickly following you through the grand foyer. His scuffed white Nikes squeak softly against the gleaming marble floor. The interior of the house was designed with the days of antiquity in mind. High ceilings with hanging chandeliers. Romanesque ornaments were engraved into the border of the walls and doused in creamy colors of gold and ivory. You walk up the staircase that curves along the side of the wall where large paintings and portraits hang proudly, displaying the rich history of your family. 

Bucky whistles in awe as he reaches the top step. 

“Damn, Y/N, I knew you were rich, but I didn’t think you’d be this rich,” he gasped. “You’re fucking loaded.” 

“Don’t curse,” you admonished, walking down the hall of rooms. “My parents don’t like it and I’m not rich. My dad’s rich.” 

Bucky chortles. “Yeah, I’ve seen him on TV before, never thought I’d be following his daughter around for a house tour.”

You turn halfway to give him a smile. “Life takes you to unexpected places.” 

“It brought me to you,” he confessed in a whisper. 

You pause and the smile on your face falls. He looks at you with his head tilted slightly to the side and gleaming blue eyes admiring every part of you. It makes your heart ache. 

You turn around and walk towards one of the guest rooms. You open the door and walk in. 

He gapes at the size of the room. Coming from an upper-middle-class family, Bucky knew he was better off than most, but standing in that room, he started to feel incompetent. 

The room was spacious and the perfect mix of traditional furniture with modern fabrics and accessories. In the center against the wall was a king sized bed covered with cool daring colors and fluffed up pillows. A fireplace is against the wall across from the bed with two matching tufted chairs in front of it. Wide windows with white sheer curtains filtered sunlight into the room with an assorted array of sconces and paintings decorating the walls 

“This room is as big as my entire apartment,” he marveled. 

You smirk. “Too much for you to handle?” 

“No, no,” he shakes his head. “I think I’ll be fine.” 

“I’ll let you settle in then,” you respond with a giggle, heading for the door. 

Bucky takes you by the wrist and pulls you into him. 

“Bucky!” you hiss. Heat rises to the tip of your ears as you try to pry from his grasp. His arms are locked around you tightly with no intention of letting go. “Let me go before someone sees.” 

He rests his forehead against yours. “I’ve missed you,” he cooes. 

Your shoulders relax when you chuckle. “I’ve missed you too,” you smiled and nuzzled your nose against his. 

The scent of his cologne takes you back to your time in London. Back to streets of smooth grey stone and rain-splattered windows. It’s crisp and cool like the air after a mighty storm. If only you could go back to a month ago and stopped yourself from falling for the man who held you so lovingly. If you had just avoided him instead of falling for him, maybe your heart wouldn’t ache when it realized you could never truly be his. 

You push him away. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Why did you come?” you asked. 

Bucky swallows. You knew why he came. “I came for you.” 

“But I told you not to,” you replied. “My parents won’t allow it.” 

Bucky places his hand on your cheek. 

“Whether they do or not, Y/N, you’re mine and I’m not going to let someone else take you from me. I refuse to let you go without a fight.”

You avert your gaze to the buttons on his shirt and pick at one. “I’m getting married in two weeks, Bucky,” you reminded him. “What can you possibly do in that short amount of time?”

Bucky raises your chin so you’d look at him. He locks his eyes with yours and sees just how deep they really are. Your dark brown eyes—flecked with specks of gold—possessed a sorrow that covered the glimmering happiness that he knew of. 

You’re afraid. More so for him than yourself. You fear the outcome of your father learning who he really was and the real reason why he was here. 

“Do you love me?” he asks. 

Your lips part, ready to say the words, but hesitate. 

It’s not right. 

You’re engaged to another. Yet, it rests on your tongue, begging for a release. 

“I do. I love you.” 

Bucky lips curve upward, wiping the single tear that falls from your eye. 

“Then don’t worry about anything.” 

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into a tight hug. 

He kisses the top of your head, letting his lips linger there. “Nothing’s gonna keep me from you.” 

For you, his word was more than enough.


	2. Koi Mil Gaya

_**Koi Mil Gaya** _

_**Mera Dil Gaya** _

* * *

There’s a peculiar charm to airports. The continuous hum of cheerful chatter, luggage wheels rolling softly on shining white tiles, and cell phones ringing create a lively atmosphere. The pungent aroma of coffee beans wafting from cafe stalls brings the comfort and warmth of home to a junction where different parts of the world connect.

It’s late in the afternoon. The sun pours through the large ceiling to floor windows that curve around the place. Streams of people flow through the terminal building while others sit in the lounge, either excited or bored.

“Oho, Ummi, I’ll be fine,” you groaned on the phone, pulling your carryon as you made your way to the gate. “I’ve been on a plane before.”

Ummi replies with a snarky remark, but you know she’s just worried underneath it.

“Okay, maybe not alone, but how hard can it be? I’ll be fine. Stop worrying,” you replied. Ummi releases a deep sigh and hands the phone over to your father. "Hello? Abbu?” you said, “Hanji, main thik hu. Hanji, hanji, sab kuch meray paas hi hai.”

"Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Abbu asks one last time just to make sure. 

You sigh deeply. “Yes, I promise. I’ll be fine. It’s a direct flight to London. I just have to get on the right plane. That’s it.”

Unfortunately, your word wasn’t enough for him. He goes on to lecture you about the dangers of the airport with the classic “young girls shouldn’t be traveling alone” spiel. After hearing the very same lecture for years, reiterated with a new subject matter so many times, it automatically goes through one ear and out the other.

You knew he meant well. He always did. Every step he took had the wellbeing of his family in mind. But sometimes he overdid it; and it was those certain moments that made you cringe. 

Your ears perked up when the PA system spoke overhead. “Passengers for Flight 9B4 to London, please go to Gate 36.”

"Abbu, I’ll talk to you later!” you exclaim. “They’re calling my flight. I gotta go. Bye!” You hang up on him before he can say anything with a mischievous grin. 

You speed walk down the terminal, using the overpass with directions as a guide. Another announcement has you running through the crowds, slightly pushing and whispering sorries as you do. By the time you get to the gate you’re a heaving mess. You give your boarding pass to the gate agent while bending over to catch your breath.

“Made it just in time,” she chirped with an amused smile.

You reply with a breathy laugh, unable to say a word.

_Damn, I’m out of shape._

She verifies your boarding pass and hands it back. “Enjoy your flight.”

You thank her before entering the air bridge and into the plane. A gorgeous blond attendant at the door greets you warmly then guides you up the aisle towards the first class seats. You find your seat by the window. Slipping your carryon into the overhead compartment, you take your seat then pull out your phone to message your dad about successfully getting on the plane.

From the corner of your eye, you see a guy lifting his bag to place it in the compartment above. The hem of his shirt hovers just above his waist as he stretches, showing the band of his Calvin Klein boxers and a teaser of what seems to be a very sculpted torso.

You whip your head towards the window, embarrassed by yourself for looking at him. You hear the seat next to you dip and groan inwardly. You give him a side glance as he rustles through his backpack for something.

His side profile is gorgeous. Short, fluffy brown locks just begging your fingers to run through them. A perfectly straight nose and a sculpted jaw.

A phone notification forces you to look away. It’s a message from Abbu wishing you safe travels. A grin spreads on your face.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome onboard Flight 9B4 with service from New York to London,” the head attendant announces.

“Mind if I squeeze this right here?” he says, already pushing his bag between your legs and his.

I mean you already did?

“Yeah, that’s fine,” you reply.

“Thanks,” he grins.

“We ask that you please fasten your seatbelts at this time and please turn off all electronic devices, including laptops and cellphones,” the attendant drolls. “Thank you for choosing British Airways. Enjoy your flight.”

You listen to her directions and securely strap yourself in. You take a deep breath and relax into your seat as the plane begins to move.

“Nervous?”

You turn over to find the guy looking at you with a goofy smile.

“No,” you replied, a bit harsher than you intended to. 

“I was just asking,” he chuckles. “I’m nervous.”

“First time?” You asked.

“No,” he denied with a shake of the head. “I always get nervous. You never know what can happen y'know? Like what if the engine bursts when we’re over the ocean? We’re all fucking screwed.”

He had a point and it was a plausible fear, but what decent human being would actually come out and say it while the plane was taking off?

You look at him completely dumbfounded.

“Didn’t mean to scare you.”

Your lips contort into a pout. “I’m not afraid.”

He shrugs. “Looks like you are.”

“Well, I’m not,” you affirm.

“Alright, so when the plane takes a nosedive into the ocean, I’ll count on you to save me ‘cause I’m going to be scared out of my mind.”

“I’m not going to save you,” you reply flatly.

“Ouch,” he chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners when he does. “Whatever happened to being a Good Samaritan?”

“We’d both die instantly. There’s no point in helping.”

“Geez, you’re depressing.”

You fall back into your seat as the plane begins to rise.

“Oh, this is it,” he announces with exaggerated excitement.

“Can you please be quiet?”

“Sorry,” he whispers apologetically.

You look out the small window, watching the plane lift off the ground and rise into the sky. Even as the engines rumbled and the ringing in your ears grew irritating, the scenery through the little window made your heart feel at ease. The clouds flowed constantly like sheets that stretched to the horizon. As the wings sliced through the dense layer, a brilliant evening sun scattered a hazy pink over the clouds, leaving you in awe and admiration. The plane levels and sets on a steady course over the clouds.

You reach down into your handbag and pull out the novel you’ve been trying to finish.

“Is that the Kite Runner?” he asks.

“It is,” you reply with a smile. The first time you’ve smiled in your short time with him and he has to admit it’s a pretty one.

“That’s a great book! I finished it in three days.”

“Oh wow,” you exclaimed, slightly embarrassed that it was taking you weeks. Not your fault though. You were busy.

“Yeah,” he sighs, reminiscing a good memory. “I don’t read many books, but that one,” he points at the book in your hand. “It moved me to tears.”

Your hand brushes over the cover. “Yeah, I like it so far. I love how flawed Amir is and how he strives to be better. It’s so relatable.”

“Yeah, it’s so realistic,” he replies. “I cried when he found out Hassan died.”

“Hassan dies?” You gasped.

From the dumbfounded look on your face, he realizes that he’s committed one of the greatest sins. “What? No!” He laughs nervously. “I meant Baba dies.”

“Baba dies too?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “Nobody dies. They all live—happily. They all live a happy ending.”

He can feel a thousand curses shot in his way just by the way you’re glaring at him.

“Aha,” he laughs awkwardly. “I’ll just shut up now.”

“Good idea,” you mumble.

“Would you two like anything?” The flight attendant asked.

“Uh, yeah I’ll have some water,” he replies then turns to you. “Do you–”

“No thank you,” you replied curtly, opening up your book to where you left off.

Bucky takes the bottle from the attendant with a sheepish smile. He decides not to bother you anymore and pulls out his air pods to listen to some music that would hopefully lull him to sleep. He puts on his slow playlist then shifts into his seat until he feels comfortable. He closes his eyes, allowing the music to relax him and just as his consciousness begins to ebb, a heavy thud on his shoulder brings him back to reality.

He turns to find you fast asleep with your head resting against his shoulder.

Bucky couldn’t stop his lips from stretching into a wide grin. There’s just something so intimate about someone —stranger or not— falling asleep on your shoulder that makes your heart flutter. It made his insides flip and a light blush scatters on his cheeks. He sits quietly, making sure not to move too much so he doesn’t wake you. 

Wide awake, he twiddles his thumbs, wondering what to do. He sees the book in your lap and slowly slips it out from underneath your hand. You wouldn’t mind if he borrowed it. He flips to the first page and starts to read, delving deep into a distant world that rested in his hands.

As Bucky travels back to Afghanistan in the 1970's through the memories of his flawed storyteller, Amir, a brilliant idea pops in his mind.

It’s a stretch, but it might just work.

All he needs is a piece of paper and a pen.

* * *

“Farhan!” You wave in excitement.

“Y/N!” He shouts back, weaving through the crowd to get to you.

You jump into his arms and give your brother a tight hug.

“I’ve missed you so much!” you whined, shaking him from side to side.

“I’ve missed you too,” he says, a chuckle coloring his words. You push him back to have a good look at him.

“You look kinda skinny,” you comment, “have you been eating?”

Farhan rolls his eyes. “You sound like mom.” He takes the suitcase by your side and pulls it along. “Now come on, let’s get out of here.”

Farhan was your mother’s pride and joy. She loved all her children, but she loved him just a little bit more.

He was the trophy child of the family, and as the heir to one of the largest enterprises in the world, he had to be. He was the best in school, the best on the field, and had a magnetic personality that attracted crowds from miles away. If it wasn’t his personality that attracted others it was his looks. He was the very definition of tall, dark, and handsome with the most gorgeous hazel eyes that fringed with smooth green under the right light. You can’t recall how many times your friends asked if he was single. As if you’d actually give them a chance with your brother.

After graduating from Oxford with an MBA degree, he decided to stay in England and work at the London branch of the company, honing his skills before he took his throne.

Farhan was perfect in every way and your parents wouldn’t miss a chance to boast about him. He was the envy of the elite. His name was clear of scandals and only marked with achievement after achievement, raising the family name to soaring heights.

Only problem he had was that he refused to get married. He wouldn’t even look at the pictures of girls your mother offered him. When she’d asked him why he didn’t want to, he always had the same answer.

“They don’t want me, they want my name.”

Sometimes, you wished you had his boldness.

“How was the flight?” Farhan asked as he pulled out of the parking lot.

“Good,” you replied. You cringe from embarrassment, remembering how you slept on that guy’s shoulder the entire flight.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you turn to look out the window, watching raindrops racing down the side of the window. “It’s kind of weird sitting on this side of the car,” you laugh.

He chuckles. “It is, but you get used to it after a while. How’s the wedding going?”

You exhale deeply while leaning against the window. “I don’t know, ask Ummi.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means, Ummi does everything. I just sit there and look pretty.”

Farhan laughs from his stomach. “Why not tell her to ease back a bit?”

“I don’t mind it,” you explained. “Honestly, I’m grateful. I can’t plan shit, but I just wished she wouldn’t talk about it so much.” 

Farhan’s brows crease in confusion. “You’re not getting cold feet are you?”

“N-no!” you stammered. “It just gets me anxious, that’s all.”

He sighs, waiting at the light. “You bring it on yourself, Y/N,”

Your head whips towards him. “And what do you mean by that?”

“You try so hard to please everyone else, that you end up not caring for yourself.“

“That’s not true—”

“We both know this wedding is only to please Abbu,” he interjects with a sad chuckle. “You’re only marrying Ayan for him.”

You scoffed. “I’m marrying Ayan because I want to,“ you counter. “He’s sweet and really nice—”

“But do you love him?”

You fall back against the window with a sigh. “Farhan I don’t want to talk about this,” you mumbled.

“But don’t you think you should?” He questions.

“Yeah, Abbu picked Ayan for me. So what about it?“ you lectured, waving your hands around. "He’s always done what’s best for us. So what’s to say he won’t pick the one that’s the best for me?”

“But shouldn’t you be the one who knows what’s best for you? Not Abbu?” he contended, eyes fixated on the street. “You say you’re an independent adult, Y/N, but you’ve never stepped out from underneath his wing. You’ve never tried anything for yourself, it’s always what he wants,” he jabbed, hitting you harder than he had intended to.

You retreat to your window in defeat and shame.

“Hey,“ he whispers, shaking your arm. You don’t look at him cause you might just cry; and that’s one thing you’d never do in front of him. At least not anymore.

"I’m not trying to make you feel bad, I just worry about you sometimes,” he confesses. “I want you to be happy doing what you want to do and not what others want from you.” 

You turn just a little to peek over at him with a quaint smile. He smiles back, holding your hand tight. “This is what I want. Really it is. Don’t worry.“

He laughs in defeat. "Whatever you say, Aloo.”

You smack his arm. “Don’t call me that!”

* * *

You plop onto the bed after unpacking your bags. Farhan had to take a business call, leaving you to your own devices. You scroll through different apps, bored out of your mind and a bit sleepy.

A notification drops down.

_Ayan_

_Have fun on your trip! Call me when you get the time._ 😊

Your insides twist at the message and not in the excited, butterflies in your stomach kind of way. It’s more like a dreadful duty that you don’t want to do right now.

You swipe the notification away, promising yourself that you’d call him tomorrow, and decide you should go to sleep. You reach over for your bag on the bedside table to get your phone charger. You pull out the novel you quickly shoved inside before leaving the plane, and notice a paper sticking out at the top of the book. You raise a brow in confusion. You never had any bookmarks, and just folded the corners to save the page. You pulled it out and weren’t expecting a message.

_Sorry about spoiling the book. Maybe I can make it up to you? If you’re staying in London, hit me up._

_917 - 569 - 2156_

_\- Bucky_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> “Hanji, main thik hu. Hanji, hanji, sab kuch meray paas hi hai.” - Yes, I’m fine. Yes, Yes, I have everything with me. 
> 
> Aloo - Potato ( a nickname)


	3. Tumse Milke Dil Ka

**_Tumse Milke Dil Ka Hai Jo Haal Kya Kahein_ **

**_Ho Gaya Hai Kaise Ye Kamal Kya Kahein_ **

“Hit me up?” 

Your nose scrunched in disgust when you read the note. Who the hell did he think he was? 

You. 

Eik shareef kandan ki larki fraternizing with strange characters? 

Over your dead body. 

In a rush of anger you ripped up the paper and threw it in the trash. You flipped the lights off and cozied yourself underneath the cover. 

“Kuttay da bacha.” 

* * *

“I’m losing my damn mind,” Sam groans. 

“What happened?” Steve questioned, looking up from his paper. 

“This place is too fucking fancy for me,” he waved his arms around. “They gave me three different forks to eat my pancakes with and I don’t know which one is the right one.” 

Steve chuckles. “Just pick any, no one’s gonna judge you here.” 

“You just had to marry rich, didn’t you?” Sam nagged playfully. “Couldn’t just pick a simple girl from Brooklyn.” 

“I’m marrying Peggy because I love her, not for her money,” Steve retorts. 

“The money’s just a bonus,” Bucky cuts in as he approaches the two. Steve frowns as Sam turns his head to watch Bucky walk into the hotel’s dining hall. 

“Look who finally decided to show up,” Sam teased. “Rest well, Sleeping Beauty?” 

“Like a baby,” Bucky replies, as he slides into a chair next to the two. He takes his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans and places it on the table so he can sit more comfortably. 

“Holy shit these pancakes are so good,” Sam fawns as he stuffs his mouth. 

“This is a five-star hotel, have some manners,” Steve hisses. 

“My deepest apologies, mother, I won’t do it again,” Sam chides him. 

Steve takes a sip of his coffee, shooting a glare in Sam’s direction, who’s hardly paying any attention to him. His eyes flit towards Bucky, who’s too busy frowning at his phone to entertain their daily squabble. 

“You’re not hungry, Buck?” 

“Hmm?” he looks at Steve. “Oh no, not really,” he shakes his head. 

“Still tired?” 

“Nah,” Bucky denies. 

“Did that girl ever text you?” Sam asked. Bucky kicked Sam’s leg. Sam winces. “What?” 

Steve’s brows furrowed in confusion. “What girl?” 

“The girl he met on the plane,” Sam informed their other friend. “He slipped his number in her book.” 

Bucky hides his face in his hands. 

“You slipped your number in a random girl’s book?” Steve repeated. “How’d you even do that?”

“She fell asleep on his shoulder and he decided to go through her stuff,” Sam deadpanned, taking another mouthful of pancake in his mouth. 

“Seriously?” 

“No!” Bucky defended. “It was nothing like that. The book was right there so I decided to just slip it in.” 

“It’s fucking creepy, man,” Sam stated. 

Bucky sulks in his chair and plays with his fingers. “She was pretty alright?” he murmured. 

Steve straightens his paper like an old father. “That doesn’t change the fact that it’s creepy.” 

Bucky groans. “What if she was on a connecting flight? I might never see her again.” 

Sam rolls his eyes. “You’re so dramatic. No girl in their right mind would contact a complete stranger that they’ve only exchanged two words with. Especially one that looks like you.” 

Bucky sits straight. “What’s wrong with the way I look?” 

“You look like something I’d draw with my left hand.” 

Steve snorts behind his paper, earning him a glare from Bucky. “I mean he’s not wrong.” 

“Imagine having two best friends that roast your ass instead of console you,” Bucky shades them. 

“Don’t worry, Buck,” Steve assures him with an easy smile. “There’s plenty of girls out there. You’ll find another one.” 

“But I liked that one,” he grumbles. 

“You don’t know anything about her. Move on already,” Sam retorts. Bucky pouts in his seat like a child. 

“Peggy’s cousin is holding a party tonight and you’re obviously invited,” Steve informed, before returning to his paper. “I know without a doubt that you’ll find someone there.”

* * *

Inconsequent polite chatter, canapes, and wine. The three main ingredients for a fancy party held by a social elite. 

The ballroom on the top floor at the Jumeirah Carlton Tower was already brimming with people when you arrived. 

Then again, any party hosted by the one and only Tony Stark would be. 

“Farhan!” Tony greets as he approaches the two of you. His arms were spread out in a welcoming manner with a glass of champagne in one hand. 

“Tony! It’s been too long,” your brother gives him a side hug. 

“And this is…” Tony looks at you completely clueless as to what your name is. 

Typical. 

“Uh, my sister,” Farhan introduces, motioning a hand towards you. “Y/N.” 

“And Farhan’s sister!” he exclaims.

“Nice to finally meet you,” you extend a hand. Tony takes it and gives it an over-excited shake. Must be the champagne. “Farhan’s told me a lot about you.” 

“Hopefully not everything,” Tony laughs. He places his hand on Farhan’s shoulder and shakes it a bit. “Y’know me and him,” he points between the both of them. “We both got into so much trouble at St. Joseph’s, but somehow this motherfucker always got out of it.”

Farhan shakes his head in embarrassment. You look at him with a raised brow paired with an amused smile. Oh how you wished, Abbu was right there with you. 

“You’re lying,” Farhan tries to cover up. “It was all you. I would tell you not to do it.” 

“I’m lying?” Tony retorted, ready to spill all the dirty details from their highschool days. “Remember that time you—” 

“Y/N!” 

You turn to see Peggy running towards you, her perfect auburn curls bouncing as she does. She slams into you, almost toppling you over. “You’re finally here!” she exclaims. She lets go, but keeps you in arm’s length. “And you look gorgeous. Oh, I’ve missed you so much!” she pulls you back in for another hug. 

“I’ve missed you too.” 

“I was so worried you wouldn’t make it,” Peggy said. 

“Me? Not make it to your wedding?” you replied, “Not in a million years.” Your chuckles mingled with hers. It’s been so long since you felt this happy.

“Oh, Farhan,” Peggy notices him behind you. “You’re here too!”

“Of course I’m here,” he teased. “You thought I wouldn’t be?” 

“No,” she shakes her head in amusement. “You’re just so busy these days being a hotshot in The City.” 

“I’m never too busy for a friend.” 

“Aww, aren’t you the sweetest?” Tony teases. “You use that kinda talk when you’re buttering those geezers up?” 

“Well, if it means the best for L/N Enterprises then I see no harm in it,” he shrugs with a pompous grin . “Maybe Stark Industries should take a tip or two from me.”

“Farhan,” you gasped, a habit you picked up from Ummi. 

“Let’s leave these two here,” Peggy told you, taking you by the hand. “Let me introduce you to the wedding party.”

“Alright,” you nodded as she pulled you through the crowd leaving Farhan and Tony behind. 

“Steve!” she calls for the blonde at the bar. He turns around, a smile spreading on his face when he sees his fiance. She scurries up to him with you right behind her. “Look who finally made it.” 

“Y/N!” he greets. “Thank God, you’re here. Peggy was about to raise hell. She’s been driving me nuts all evening.” 

“If she’s driving you nuts now then you sure you want to get married to her?” Sam jabbed walking towards them with a blue-eyed stranger that looked far too familiar beside him. 

Bucky’s eyes light up when they meet yours. He grins at you from ear to ear which you return with a tight-lipped scowl. 

“I am sure,” Steve affirms. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.” He grins, pulling Peggy into his side and planting a sweet peck on her temple. 

“Y/N, these are Steve’s friends,” Peggy introduces. “Sam and Bucky. Guys, this is Y/N, we were roommates in university.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Sam nods. 

“You too,” you whisper, feeling uncomfortable with the energy that your reunion with the freak had created in the room.

Bucky chuckles to himself, unable to contain the giddy excitement within him. 

“What’s so funny, Buck?” 

“Nothing,” he shakes his head. You bit your lip, eyes everywhere but on him. His eyes sink you in, etching every detail that he missed into his memory. “It’s a small world after all.” 

You lock eyes with him, and there’s just something about his gaze that you’ve never encountered before. 

* * *

A cool London breeze brushes against your arms. You managed to slip out of the party and right under Peggy’s nose for some well-needed fresh air out on the balcony of the high-rise ballroom. 

Farhan was God knows where. Most likely surrounded by colleagues and business partners who had a long list of topics to discuss with him. Topics that you had no interest in and quite literally bored you. That’s why you decided not to go into business and instead went into the medical field. 

Not like you needed to anyway. Farhan was fully capable of taking care of the entirety of L/N Enterprises by himself, and if you had to be honest, you were glad he was. You could call yourself selfish and lazy, but having the weight of Abbu’s legacy resting on your shoulders was something you weren’t capable enough to handle. 

You let out a deep exhale, while leaning against the balcony and looking out at the city skyline that glimmered in the dark night. 

You hear footsteps behind you and turn to see who it was. 

“What are you doing here?” you snapped, standing straight with a tight fist, ready to swing if it came to it. 

Bucky grins. “Just getting some fresh air. You?” 

“I was just leaving,” you stated, walking past him in large strides. 

He catches your hand by the wrist. “Wait up.” 

“Don’t touch me,” you pull your hand out of his. 

“Sorry,” he apologizes with a nervous smile. “Did you get my note?” 

You look away, embarrassed. “I did,” you mumbled. 

“Then why didn’t you reply?” 

You look at him incredulously. “Me? Reply to you?” you asked. “I don’t even know you.” 

“Oh of course where are my manners,” he lunges towards you. “I’m Bucky. I’m twenty-six years old from Brooklyn and a mechanical engineer. How about you?” 

“Leave me alone.” You turn on your heel and head towards the door. 

“Don’t you think you should give me a chance?” Bucky asks from behind. “The fact that we’re meeting again can’t just be a coincidence. I think it’s fate.” 

“Fate?” you repeated with a raised brow. 

“Yeah,” he nods. “I mean just think about it. We met on the plane. There’s like a one in a million chance that we would’ve landed on the same plane. And the fact that our friends are getting married and we’re meeting each other again to celebrate?” he brings a finger to his cheek as if he’s thinking. “Uh, I think the universe is plotting something here.” 

You feel a migraine unleashing. “Stop you’re making my head hurt.” 

“All I’m saying is that a guy like me and a girl like you have some sort of connection.” 

“Wrong.” you state flatly. “A girl like me and a guy like you have nothing to do with each other. So if you’ll please excuse me, I have to go. And if you ever try speaking to me again, it will not end well for you.” 

Bucky hands hugs his hips as he watches you leave. He lets out a deep exhale, wondering what your deal was. 

Was he really _that_ ugly?


End file.
